Until Death Brings Us Closer
by spacefreckles
Summary: There are things we're never taught about the red strings that connect us to our fate, and one of them is that they just might end up being the nooses around our necks.
1. Chapter 1

"Well, I don't know dude..ha." Stan swallowed thickly and scanned over his once super best friend's features. He felt a little guilty, he was always ditching him for Wendy. They were getting older, though, and she was his girlfriend. It was a little ridiculous for Kyle to expect anything other than for him to put her and her needs and desires first.  
"I mean, I kind of...have a date...later.." He murmured, the words spilling from his lips in a slur. Kyle had heard those same words so many times, he was afraid of what his response might be every single time he had to say them.

Sometimes he worried that he would be the one who finally caused him to snap. He was always so on edge, the raven could tell; everyone could tell. It was actually pretty overbearing. It /radiated/ off of him. That was one of the reasons he had started distancing himself from him in the first place.

"So...maybe like..tomorrow? Oh, wait, tomorrow I...fuck..ha..uh.."

The redhead's cheeks burned bright as an all too familiar bitter taste entered his mouth. He swallowed hard and ran his tongue over his cracked lips, frustration swarming his mind. He couldn't wrap it around his head how the raven could never make any time for him. Weren't they supposed to be best friends? It hadn't felt like it for awhile.

He felt a heaviness set in his chest, growing tense and tight from the words that left the other's lips. "Tomorrow you..what..?" he asked, his voice coming out dry.  
He should never had asked to see a movie with Stan in the first place.  
He let out a sharp breath, eyes darting down in avoidance. They stung as anxiety rose in his chest and caused his heart to beat itself against his ribcage.  
He knew what was coming next, it was inevitable. Disappointment.

"Oh, well...I'm going somewhere with these guys from the team..." He laughed nervously, sliding a hand through his hair and taking a deep breath, knowing the answer wouldn't cause anything but an uncomfortable tension between them.

Kyle let out a pained laugh, shutting his eyes quickly in frustration. "The guys from the team?" he asked, eyes flickering up. If this were ANY other time, he'd probably just accept it and move on per usual; just brush it off his shoulders...but this was different. Stan had promised. He had sworn profusely that he wouldn't just ditch their plans this time.  
Kyle was desperately looking for an explanation- Some sort of REASON as to why the raven could blindly go off and make plans with other people after promising /several times/ that they'd go and see a movie together. It had taken so much effort for him to have gotten his mother to agree.

"What is there some party you were invited to or something?" he choked out, voice rigid.

"Oh..um..yeah, actually. Dude, I'm really sorry. Maybe next weekend we can, though?" He suggested, weak smile twitching up onto his lips.

When Kyle didn't respond, he reached out to put a hand on the boy's shoulder.  
"Ky, c'mon..I mean, I'm sure someone else would love to hang out with you this weekend. I'm not the only person in the world, dude." He chuckled.

The redhead knew Stan's words were meant to be comforting, apologetic even, but he'd heard it enough times. He didn't quite know why he expected this time to be any different. Just wistful thinking, probably. He swallowed quickly, his breath hitching in his throat as he struggled to compose himself. He felt ridiculous for the way he was acting.

"Y-yeah dude I guess you're right! You know how popular I am, hah."

Stan's hand on his shoulder felt so painful, like it was sinking into his flesh and deep down past the bone, but what could he do? Was he supposed to just shrug it off?

He cleared his throat. "Next weekend, then." He murmured, giving a half-hearted smile and turning away to pick up his gym clothes. He was already worried that he was going to be late to his next class.

"Hey, wait, Ky." The raven called out, stepping forward some and tugging on the back of his shirt.  
When Kyle heard him speak up again, the pain that shot through his body was almost unbearable.  
"Thanks, dude. You're the best." He gave him his best smile, the one that could turn him to mush quicker than anything else.

"I'll s-see you Monday, text me about the party okay? And tell me how things go with Wendy!" The redhead spluttered, not even waiting for a response before he dashed out of the locker room.  
He felt pathetic. He felt absolutely pathetic.  
Desperate for some sort of escape-somewhere where he could be alone, he headed to a bathroom that was usually vacant.  
He felt the noirette's words resonating in his ears and overwhelming him as he reached an empty stall, quickly shutting the door behind him.

"Thanks dude, you're the best."

He dropped his bags and locked the door, jaw clenched in a desperate attempt to keep the pained noise that ended up escaping anyway down his throat. He collapsed onto the cracked toilet seat, digging his nails into his thighs, chest rising and falling unevenly. A broken sob found it's way out of his mouth and echoed off of the walls of the stall. He shook his head back and forth and tried to push away the words Stan had said before he ran off.

Craig had just returned to the South Park High, not wanting to miss his psychology class because it was honestly the only thing about school he hadn't found himself completely despising. It actually kept his attention, and since it wasn't like he was present for anything else most of the time, he had to show up for something. If he didn't come home with at least a few pages of homework and a heavy textbook his dad would become suspicious and it would just make things harder than they already were on himself.

He didn't understand it at all, why his dad 'cared' so much about whether or not he attended his classes, or maybe the only thing there /was/ to understand was that there was no understanding it.

His father just loved to come up with what he considered reasonable explanations for why he did the things that he did. It was honestly sickening, and it wasn't something he could think about, either.  
Detaching himself from reality had become his specialty, because his reality was humiliating and miserable. He didn't want to be associated with himself. The things that happened to him when he was at home made him wish he wasn't alive, and no one could know that. No one could know that he was anything, he didn't want anyone to know him. It was probably more instinctive and involuntary than anything now, but he had convinced even himself to believe that the person he was was his exterior. It was so much easier to believe there was nothing beyond that.

He took one last drag off of his cigarette and put the ash out on his wrist, barely flinching and carelessly flicking the filter onto the pavement. When he entered the double doors of the building his class was in, his eyes flickered over to the bathroom immediately. He really had to piss, and he usually like to buy himself some time alone before having to be around a bunch of people anyway.

There was something off, though, something that caught his attention as soon as he entered.

The corner of his lip curled up into a smirk as he listened closer and was able to confirm that there was heavy breathing coming from one of the stalls. Someone had to be feeling really terrible and desperate to be alone if they wanted to lock themselves in this bathroom..there was a reason it was always empty.

"Fuck," Kyle breathed. He felt so stupid and pathetic for even attempting to make plans with Stan. He couldn't even target his frustration at the raven, though. Instead he forced it all onto himself. The only logical reason he could come up with for the other constantly ditching their plans was that he had done something wrong. It was probably because he was so difficult to be around. He knew he wasn't any fun because of how stressed he was, and the fact that he couldn't control it made him feel all the more helpless. His back muscles convulsed, causing his entire body to ache. He was trying desperately to take in deep breaths but his attempts were all futile. Stan's lighthearted words flooded his ears no matter how hard he tried to push them to the back of his mind or tell himself that he shouldn't be upset, the intensity of their captivity on him causing him not to hear when someone else entered the restroom.

Craig unzipped his skinny jeans and went about his business, closing his eyes and sighing contentedly at the obvious crying. Someone was in there, he knew it, and even if he wasn't going to say anything to them he was definitely going to find out who it was.

The voice sounded male even if it broke and cracked at just the right pitches to where it could be mistaken for a female. He scanned over a list of people in his head that he usually saw around this area around this time, as they were more likely to be the person in the stall.

Wetting his lips and letting out a curt chuckle, he shook himself off and did his pants back up, becoming more and more curious by the second.  
He contemplated just walking over to the stall and kicking it or something; perhaps telling the person to shut up and then leaving, but instead he decided to keep listening.

Kyle's vision blurred, tears blinding his sight and landing hot against his flushed skin. The sound of the water from the faucet caused his heart to skip a beat and his hands instantly shot up to cover his mouth.  
His eyes widened, he felt his entire throat go dry, fear washing over him in overbearing waves.

Had he been heard crying?

He hoped that the noise from the sink had covered up the sound of him in the stalls, as unlikely as it was.

He began to panic, lifting one of his hands and running it through his mess of red curls. At this rate, he was going to be late for Psychology, but he couldn't risk being seen by this other person.

Craig stuffed his hands into his pockets and hummed amusedly, smirk widening on his face as he stalked over to the stall he'd been hearing the noise come from. He stood in front of it, pursing his lips together immediately to hide any expression on his face in case they did decide to come out.

The redhead's mind was racing for some way to get out of the bathroom without being seen. The only feasible plan he could come up with was to crawl under the stalls until he reached the exit of the bathroom and then to just run out- but he just couldn't fathom being caught crawling on the disgusting tiled floor on top of having just been heard crying. It wasn't worth the risk.  
He let out a shaky breath, eying the pair of shoes standing in front of the stall. He didn't recognize them, so it couldn't be Stan, at least.

"You know, there are like three other stalls you could use. You don't have to wait on me." He rushed out in a bitter tone before closing his eyes and gritting his teeth together, regretting the decision to speak immediately.

"Ohh." Craig spoke, his nasally voice eerily monotone as usual. He easily pinned down the identity of the person in the stall, finding the redhead to sound too unique to possibly have been anyone else. His voice was unmistakable, as was the tone he used.  
He was definitely interested in this now. He knew Kyle always seemed to be on edge but he never thought too deeply about how much longer it would take him until he broke. He wondered what he was crying over. A few possibilities raced through his head. They were mostly things that anyone could see; like the stress he was always under because of the constant work he had loaded on himself, or his obsession with Stan Marsh.

The corner of his lip quirked up slightly and he sighed.  
Having gotten what he wanted, he could leave now, and the best part was he could study him in their next class a lot easier than behind a stall. He turned and headed out just as the bell rang, barely making it to his class on time. He took his time, knowing the redhead wouldn't follow directly behind him. He wanted to throw him off even more by making him late to class. The more he broke him down, the easier it would be to see his core.


	2. Chapter 2

In reality, probably only a few people turned to see him walk in late- but to Kyle it felt like the entire class had their eyes on him. He ran a shaky hand through his curls again, eyes wide and mouth dry.

"I'm sorry I'm late Mrs. Hillem-"

"Mr. Broflovski, why- why on earth are you late?" the old woman let out, both shock and concern flooding her tone.

His eyes dropped to his feet.

"I was held back by Coach Young. He had a few questions for me, uh, regarding the basketball team. I would have had him sign a pass, b-but I didn't know I would be this late. I'm sorry, Mrs. Hilleman. It won't happen again." he blurted out before he could really give much thought to the words leaving his lips.

"It's alright. I won't mark you tardy. Please take your seat, Kyle." she sighed quietly and nodded her head, gesturing towards his empty desk near the back of the classroom. He would be sitting in the front, but Mrs. Hilleman decided only the behavior issues needed to sit there. Kyle cleared his throat and quietly made his way to the desk, knowing he had just created a huge distraction. He took his seat nervously, hearing whispers and mumbled breaths saying his name.

Craig slid his tongue over his teeth and laughed curtly, nodding his head in amusement. He fiddled with his pencil and began scribbling random doodles and obscenities on his paper while the teacher pulled up notes on the projector so that it looked like he was doing something, even if he wasn't. He couldn't believe how pathetically desperate Kyle had been not to get scolded for being late. It annoyed him a little, really.

'It won't happen again!'

He scoffed internally, there were things so much more awful than being late to a class.

His eyes scanned the redhead's form shamelessly for a while before flickering up to his face so that he could study his expression, chewing on the inside of his cheek and tilting his head to the side a bit in confusion. If his last class was gym, then he had possibly just been talking to Stan. That would make him more likely of being the culprit of his breakdown. It wouldn't surprise him, really.

Kyle clutched his pencil with a shaky hand, staring down at his paper with his eyebrows furrowed. He could tell people were staring at him and he hated it. He clenched and unclenched his jaw nervously, looking up at the white board and copying down the day's agenda. He rolled up the plaid sleeves of his shirt and glanced down to see tear blotches on the front of his sweater. He swore under his breath, desperately trying to rub them away. Just as he began scanning over the notes, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He looked around nervously before pulling it out to check the text.

FROM: STAN  
dude what should i get wendy for valentines day its getting close

He took one look at the message before stuffing the phone back into his pants pocket, a heavy feeling building in his chest and sinking into itself. He felt so overwhelmed, so disappointed, and the worst part was that he wasn't supposed to be this upset over any of this and he knew it. He dug his nails into his thighs again, letting out a sharp breath through closed teeth. He hated thinking about this. It was completely unfair for Stan to just expect him to get over the fact that he was always ditching him for Wendy, even if she was his girlfriend. He was his best friend after all, wasn't he? Didn't that matter at all?

Craig's brow quirked up at the expression on Kyle's face, wondering if Stan was the one who had texted him since he really didn't have many other friends. The only other one he knew of was Kenny, and the blonde didn't own a cellphone. He began tapping his slightly calloused fingertips against his desk, forgetting for a moment that he was supposed to be 'taking notes'.

Mrs. Hilleman scanned the classroom, expecting to see her students working diligently on the warm up. It was a daily assignment. Quite an easy grade, really. Her eyes landed on Craig soon enough, though, and her eyebrows furrowed as she watched him stare into space. Her voice lifted many heads among the students when she finally spoke to the raven, all who turned to look up at her.

"Craig, would you like to explain the warm up?" she asked expectantly, eyeing him down. "You seem to be finished, I can't imagine why you wouldn't be working otherwise."

Craig stiffened noticeably at the teacher's voice and cleared his throat, turning to her and then briefly scanning over the notes with his eyes. He hated having to speak out loud, and he _really_ hated having everyone's eyes on him; it made him feel sick. He felt like they could see through his clothes; see all of the bruises on his skin and any place he'd been violated his whole life. It was an awful feeling, like they could read his skin like a biography on him, even though logically he knew that that wasn't the case at all.  
He quickly and instinctively converted his anxiety into frustration, gritting his teeth together and swallowing hard to keep the acid he could feel in his stomach from creeping up his throat. He just stared at her, not really knowing what else to do but that. His face was completely blank as he did so, almost as if he was looking right through her.

Kyle cocked an eyebrow at that, thankful that everybody's eyes were finally on someone other than him. He barely associated himself with Craig Tucker outside of class, and never had to exchange more than a few words with him even then. He eyed the boy's posture suspiciously, noticing how stiff and how rigid he'd become with Mrs. Hilleman's words.  
Eventually he decided that it would not only help the noirette to have the eyes off of him, but it would also help himself to appear more like normal if he offered to answer the question for him, so he raised his hand.

Craig's gaze averted to Kyle momentarily, continuing to move his pen in pointless circles on his paper. He almost wondered if the boy had another reason for doing what he was doing, because it seemed too pretentious and assholish to even believe otherwise. That was Kyle, though, _pretentious_.

The redhead scowled at Craig and the way he just continued to jumble down nonsense onto his paper, fumbling with the pencil in his raised hand. He didn't even look relieved that he was saving his ass, and that's what irritated him the most. "Mrs. Hilleman?" he blurt out, "I, uh - I have the answer."

The woman eyed Craig suspiciously, glowering at him. She reluctantly called on Kyle to answer the question, who did so without faltering.

"Thank you, Kyle." she said once he was done explaining the warm up.

The boy simply nodded his head and turned his head to whisper something to the noirette beside him. "You're welcome." he said in a sarcastic tone, although his voice sounded much too proud to come across in a facetious manner.

Craig didn't say anything to the him, simply raising his hand up and flipping him off, continuing to scribble in his notebook and waiting for the leftover eyes to unstick themselves from him.

Kyle's cheeks burned in frustration as he let out a heavy breath, wondering how hard it was for the raven to take a joke.  
He dated his paper then and and tucked it into his Psychology binder neatly, turning to face the other boy again almost instantly, eyeing him up and down. He wondered what in the world his problem was. He was always so cold and distant about everything, never saying more than a few words; using his middle finger as a response more than he used his mouth.

Kyle knew just as well as anybody else that Craig loathed Stan, but that couldn't be his reasoning for treating Kyle poorly could it? He shook his head. It must have had to do with what he said.  
He sighed, "Look, I was just trying to help you out, okay?" he spoke, his voice sounding flustered.

"No, you're right, I have _no idea_ where I'd be without you Kyle." Craig replied sarcastically.

"Probably still sitting there trying to come up with an answer with everybody looking at you. And I could tell how much you enjoyed that, so yeah, you're welcome." he retorted in a cold voice.

Craig's lip twitched and he straightened himself out a little, wetting his lips and nodding.

"Hey Kyle, since when does Coach Young hang out in the bathroom stall?"

Kyle blinked. "I-I don't know what you're talking about." he said in a shaky voice. His hands were clasped together under his desk, his entire body frozen. He glanced his eyes down to look at Craig's shoes and sure enough they had been the ones he had seen through teary eyes in the boy's restroom not twenty minutes ago.

The raven sighed, almost feeling bad for him. He didn't understand why he didn't at least try to fill his life with other people besides Stan. That's what he'd done when Clyde just suddenly stopped talking to him in middle school. It was extremely difficult; excruciating, really, but there wasn't really anything else that could be done about the situation.

He cleared his throat and looked back down at his notebook for a minute, counting the number of times he'd written 'fuck' on it before deciding maybe he should say something back.

"Should just drop him."

Kyle's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"What are you talking about, Craig?"

He knew he had to play this off cooley. Craig was probably just trying to take a crack at him. The redhead glanced up, seeing no sign of the teacher anywhere around. He licked his lips nervously, avoiding eye contact with the other boy.

"Who do you think I'm talking about, Kyle?" He sighed, rolling his eyes.

"I'm not talking about coach young."

Kyle swallowed hard, wondering if he was really that easy to read.  
"Look why are you even bringing this up?" he asked, feeling defeated. He stared down at his desk uncomfortably, feeling paranoid now that _everyone_ could see right through him. What if Stan could?  
If someone who barely knew him could tell things he thought he'd hidden so well, then what was keeping him from noticing the way he felt about him?

Craig's lip quirked up just slightly. The confirmation that he'd been right was more than satisfying; it sent chills up and down his spine. He rolled his shoulders back in attempt to get more comfortable in his seat, clearing his throat again and sighing through his teeth.

He didn't really have an answer, and when he tried to look for one it made his head hurt.  
He just really enjoyed seeing people's reactions to things, especially their negative ones.

He didn't really like to think about why he was so interested in anyone else's lives in any further depth, though. He knew the reason, but he preferred to leave it in the back of his mind. It would destroy the purpose of trying not to think about his own in the first place if he let it claw it's way back up into his conscious mind so he decided not to say anything in return.

The silence that Craig returned sent and uncomfortable chill down Kyle's back; he ran his fingers anxiously through his hair, his cell phone vibrating in his pocket again just as soon as he was about to open his mouth again and speak.

From: Stan  
Ugh are you okay dude

The redhead forced himself to type back a short reply, his eyes stinging as he did.

To: Stan  
Yeah I'm fine, dude! And you should get her like, roses or something. I don't know. This really isn't my specialty."

He stuffed the phone back in his pocket afterwards, letting out a sharp, pained breath.

"He's too stupid to realize, if that's what you're worried about." Craig murmured.

"He's not _stupid_." Kyle spat.

"Mm. Okay." The noirette laughed curtly, "Then maybe he does know, Kyle."

Kyle's head turned towards him sharply at that, his lips parted in panic, his heart feeling like it dropped into his stomach.  
"You- look you don't- ugh! Why the fuck would you say something like that?" Kyle rushed out, eyes wide.  
For a moment he felt himself become paranoid that he was being too loud, but when he looked up to see where was in the class, he saw that she seemed perfectly fine with their conversing.  
She probably thought Kyle was helping him with his notes or something.

"Oh my god." Craig groaned, drawing out his words. "Broflovski, I'm trying to work." He sighed.

"I don't think writing fuck all over your paper counts as working, Craig." Kyle spat with a clenched jaw.

"It's a lot less headache inducing than thinking about your little Stan obsession."

That made the redhead flinch.

"It's not a fucking obsession." he said through gritted teeth.

"Well, there's religion, but I thought you were jewish."

The boy let out a choked sound before he was cut off by his phone again. He pulled it out with hesitance, not sure he wanted to know what it said.

From: Stan  
i mean i want to get her flowers but i've done that every year dude. i mean i want something special haha we're not in middle school anymore you know?

Kyle could feel his throat closing up and his cheeks burning. He just stared at the message for awhile, disappointment, embarrassment, and anger all wrapped into one expression, making his face contort.

"What's it say?" Craig asked, tone flat even if he was interested.

"Nothing. It's from my mom." he lied in a vacant voice.

"I don't think your mom would be able to elicit that sort of response from you, even if she's a raging bitch."

"I didn't think so either." Kyle said, slouching in his chair. His eyebrows were knitted together in confusion and apprehension. There was obvious pain in his voice when he spoke, and an obvious effort to cover it up. He didn't even bother to put his phone back in his pocket; he simply set it on the desk and stared off straight ahead of himself.

"You're not a good liar." Craig sighed, and for the sake of keeping the conversation going, allowed his usual nonchalant tone to slip just a tad.  
He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his desk, looking up towards the clock and feeling annoyed at what little time had passed.

"Why are you even bothering?" he continued his statement since the redhead hadn't said anything in response.

He chewed on his lip for a moment, rolling his eyes when he, again, didn't receive any sort of acknowledgement. Kyle wasn't just stubborn, he was moody, too.

"You need to loosen up a little, don't you think?"

If Kyle had a quarter for every time he'd heard that, he'd have a plethora of quarters. His eyes flickered back, meeting Craig's.  
"Oh yeah, because you're totally the first person to tell me that." he muttered sarcastically, cocking an eyebrow.

"When are you going to start taking the advice?"

"What? Loosen up?" Kyle scoffed, having heard that so many times but never really taking it into consideration. It's not like he'd be able to do anything anyways with his parents up his ass all the time, he thought to himself.

"Yeah. Loosen up." Craig nodded his head. "You're making me talk a lot more than I want to." he sighed.

"What do you mean? Like, go to a party or something and get wasted? Yeah, no thanks...and you don't have to talk to me if you don't want to. I'm not _making_ you do _anything_." Kyle grumbled.

Craig was the one who scoffed this time, "I'm not recommending parties or alcohol to anyone, Broflovski. I'm not your boyfriend."

That definitely struck a nerve with him, he didn't even open his mouth to defend himself, to defend Stan. He just let out an incredulous laugh, shaking his head and turning to face Craig again. "What are you suggesting, then?"

Craig shrugged, "Something that works. I don't know. I don't particularly care, but for the sake of everyone else, maybe you should try some weed or something. Seriously, you need to chill the fuck out."

Kyle blinked. Was Craig fucking serious?

"Oh yeah because I could totally get away with that. Dude, I don't think you know my parents." he laughed bitterly.

"I don't know your parents." He confirmed, the statement striking a nerve for _him_. Kyle didn't know his parents, either. Really they both knew very little about each other.

"So then why would you just make some blanket statement about how I would benefit from weed if you don't know what would happen if my parents caught me? Dude, They're so anal about _everything_. You don't know what you're talking about." Kyle sighed.

Craig fell silent, finding it interesting that he wasn't turning down the idea altogether, but instead speaking strictly of what would happen if his parents found out. He pursed his lips together, startling himself a little when he heard the led from his pencil snap under the pressure he'd apparently been putting on it.

He swallowed thickly, having to think for a minute before he even remembered where exactly he'd fit in this conversation, the comment about his parents still ringing through his mind.

Kyle flinched; he hated the sound of led scraping against paper. He eyed Craig warily, letting out a sharp breath. "Dude, are you gonna answer my question?"

"What?" Craig asked, sounding genuinely confused, clearing his throat again because his voice had raised in pitch some.

Kyle rolled his eyes. "Nothing. I was just saying I don't think I'd be able to get away with anything like that."

"Oh. _Oh_." Craig suddenly felt himself falling back into place, remembering what they'd been saying.

Kyle glared at him, shaking his head with an unbelieving look in his eye. "Why are you even suggesting that to me anyways?" he muttered under his breath as his teacher walked by. He checked the clock. There was still twenty minutes left in the class.

"I was just offering to sell you some dope, dude. Stop making it out to be something so complicated."

Kyle's shoulders suddenly felt heavy, his face heating up. He had never actually considered drugs or substance use in the slightest. His parents had sheltered him from it so much when he was younger, which he thought was normal.

He was just so used to being told it wasn't acceptable. That it would ruin his life or something. He couldn't help but be curious, though.

"Wait, is dope the same thing as weed?" he blurt out before he could think about how stupid the question probably sounded.

It was not easy to make Craig Tucker laugh, not in the slightest. Usually the only person that could do it when he wasn't high was Tweek, and that was because he thought it was absolutely hilarious to sneak up behind him and make him spazz out.

The raven snorted at Kyle's question, hand shooting up to cover his mouth because he hadn't expected to laugh and he'd caught himself off guard.

"Are you serious?"

Kyle was taken off guard by the noirette's laughter, slightly offended.

"Uh, yeah. I'm just asking you a question." he muttered quietly, feeling his cheeks burning.

"Yes, Kyle. Dope and Weed are the same thing. Kush, Marijuana, Herb, Ganja, and Grass also mean Weed. I'm sorry but any further information is going to cost you. I teach classes every Thursday after school until 6pm."

"You're hilarious." he rolled his eyes, swallowing hard.

Kyle felt anxious even discussing this. He was half terrified that his mom would burst in at any moment and have him arrested or something. He let out a nervous laugh.  
"So, uh, how does it make you feel? I mean you said it would like loosen you up, right?" he coughed, scratching the back of his neck.

"Yeah, and you can use different terminology now. It's getting weird, like we're talking about a dildo or something." Craig murmured, flipping through his notebook and finding a clear page in it. He began doodling while he spoke.

"It depends on the type, how much you smoke, and how you smoke it."

"Wait..what different ways can you smoke it?" Kyle mumbled, "I thought it was just like those..weed cigarettes or whatever; blunts, right?"

Craig coughed a few times to try and hide the laughter that was attempting to make it's way up his throat again, nodding his head.

"Yeah. Blunts, joints, whatever. Or you could invest in a pipe or bong. Pipes come in different sizes, bongs get you _really_ high a lot faster; there's also vaporizers, brownies, weed cigars, lollis, cookies...the point is that weed isn't limited to joints. There's plenty of ways to take it, and they'll all get you different types of high, take you to different extremes..." He sighed.

"And then there's also different _types_."

"Dude how do you even know so much?" Kyle asked, interested.

"Because I sell it."

"To _who_ though?" he laughed. "Like, people at school?"

The corner of the noirette's lip twitched a little, "No. To people at school, to people around town, to people in Denver. To a lot of people, Kyle." he said, voice cold. It was obvious that he was asking too many questions now.

Kyle raised his eyebrows, not only thoroughly confused but even more intrigued now as well. "How much money do you sell it for?" he asked quietly, looking down and fumbling with his thumbs. He imagined Craig must make a ton of money slinging it around.

"Uh, like, 90$ a quarter ounce." He murmured, starting to draw Stripe on his paper because he was feeling a little uncomfortable as he continued to load him with questions, even if he'd been the one to bring it up in the first place.

Kyle sat there for a while, feeling his cheeks burning as his mind reeled with curiosity. His leg was shaking as he watched the clock.  
There were only five minutes left of class. He felt swarmed with frustration over Stan, over Wendy, over those guys on the football team who were going to be able to spend next Saturday with Stan when he wasn't. He felt overwhelmed with embarrassment, now, knowing it was Craig who had heard him crying in the bathroom. He felt a horrible amount of anxiety and stress weighing down on his shoulders, and he felt like none of it was going to go away. He would go home tonight and crash as soon as he got into his room. His parents would be up his ass all weekend. He didn't think he could stand another night of this. Before he could wrap his head around what he was about to ask, he let it all out in a breath, "Would you sell it to me?"

"What kind of question is that? I'd sell it to anyone." He sighed, setting his pencil down and looking the redhead over curiously.

"You'd just have to follow me after class. Unless you're going to be hanging out with Stan or something."

He kept his face stoic, so that it seemed as if he genuinely thought he might be, but he knew he wasn't. He could see the way Stan started to look at Kyle like he was a threat to his relationship, like he was a drag or a mood-kill to have around because of how stressed out he always was. He knew Stan wasn't going to make plans with Kyle after school, and that's exactly why he asked.

To break him.

To get him to buy it and come back with him after school.


End file.
